The Price You Pay
by Emcnary
Summary: When the woman in Alastor Moody's life is threatened, what price will he pay to protect the woman he loves?


"Next time you'll halt when I say halt, scum," Alastor growled as he pulled the young man he'd been pursuing from where he'd tackled him to the ground. Such means weren't strictly necessary, of course, when one was a wizard and could cast a spell to bring the criminal down. But there was something fulfilling about using an Impediment Jinx to slow the perp down before using the Muggle law enforcement tactic of tackling them.

"Ah!" the man yelled as Alastor pulled his arms behind his back before binding his hands together.

"Nice one, Moody," Gawain Robards said as he jogged through the dark Knockturn Alley street to where Alastor was now standing over their captive.

"Take note, lad," Alastor said as he rolled their suspect to his back. "Sometimes the Muggles aren't wrong in their techniques.

Robards nodded and reached into his robes, pulling out a wrinkled piece of parchment.

"Don't actually take notes," Alastor barked. "Someone could read it."

"Of course, sir," Robards said as he hastily shoved the parchment back into his robes.

Mad-Eye sighed as he wiped sweat from his forehead, tucking his handkerchief back into his pocket before renewing the Cooling Charm on his robes. The heat of the mid-summer evening combined with his foot pursuit and the lack of air moving through the winding alleys was stifling.

"All right, what do we do next?" Mad-Eye asked his charge.

As an apprentice, Alastor didn't think Gawain Robards was half bad—a bit green, but they all were when they were in the training program. He listened well enough and was eager to learn. If Alastor could drill the idea of vigilance into the young man's head, he had the potential to turn out to be top-notch Auror.

Alastor nodded his ascent after Robards correctly listed the steps that needed to be taken next, especially appreciating his mention of an Anti-Disapparition Jinx for the area so they could question witnesses before they fled. He sent the young Auror off to start interviewing anybody on the street.

"We're gonna make sure you're nicely taken care of," Alastor said to the dark-haired wizard glaring at him with his hands bound behind his back. He pulled the man to a sitting position. "Especially since you made it so hard for us to find you."

Matthew Goyle had been a target of Alastor's for the past six months. His use of a Coercion Charm—along with a love potion, the Magical Forensics Unit told him—to lure Muggle women into providing for his financial needs until he bled them dry, poisoned them, and moved on to the next unsuspecting victim was beyond despicable. It was satisfying to catch the man before he took anyone else's life.

"It was hard to find you, too, you know," Goyle said, a nasty sneer appearing on his face.

Alastor crouched down to look the man square in the face. "Nobody finds me unless I want them to."

"That so?" Goyle leaned in closer to Alastor. "That was a lovely woman you had with you two nights past."

Alastor's insides froze as he fought to keep his expression from showing the terror that was suddenly coursing through his body. In his years of being an Auror, he'd never been afraid—until that moment.

"Like you know anything about me," Alastor said with a derisive snort.

Goyle sniggered unpleasantly. "I know you've not slept at your house but maybe twice in a fortnight. I know the witch you're pretending doesn't exist works as a secretary in the Magical Law Enforcement office."

Alastor grabbed the collar of Goyles' robes and pulled his face close to his. "All you need to know is that you're goin' away for life, and _I'm_ the one who's done it. You got a problem, you answer to me." He shook Goyle roughly and growled, "Got it?"

When Goyle simply smirked defiantly, Alastor lifted the man by the front of his robes and pushed him again the brick wall of the nearest building. The only thought in his head was the woman he cared about—if he were a man who readily acknowledged his feelings, he'd admit that he loved her. May Taylor didn't deserve to be put in danger because of his job.

Goyle grunted as his back hit the wall before laughing roughly. "Got you where it hurts, did I?" Alastor tightened his grip as Goyle sniggered again. "Don't worry," he said in a low voice, "I'll watch after her for you."

White hot anger surged through Alastor and he grabbed a handful of Goyle's dark hair, drawing his head away from the wall before slamming it back, knocking the man out. With a satisfying thud, Goyle dropped to the ground.

After collecting Robards and carrying their suspect through a nearby Floo to the Ministry, Mad-Eye went to his cluttered cubicle and began rifling through his files on the Goyle case.

"You want to tell me why your suspect arrived unconscious?"

Alastor looked up from taking notes and swiveled the chair in his cramped cubicle to face his supervisor, Peter Crickerly. He leaned back and stared at the man for a moment before saying, "He resisted arrest."

Crickerly huffed and crossed his arms. "You better hope that doesn't turn into an inquiry on the use of excessive force."

"His word against mine," Alastor said before turning back to his paperwork.

As far as he was concerned, Matthew Goyle could file whatever he liked—he'd do whatever it took to make sure May wasn't in danger. His first step had been making sure he filed paperwork with the Wizengamot to ensure that Goyle was allowed no visitors other than his Magical Legal representative while held at the Ministry before trial. Next, he'd track down any known accomplices Goyle may still have at large. But first, he needed to get to May.

.

"May!"

A sharp yell and pounding at her front door startled May awake from her spot on the sofa. She'd waited up as long as she could—as was her habit when waiting for Alastor to return from a late-night mission. She swung her legs off the sofa and hurried to the door of her small cottage she owned in a remote Wizarding village outside of Glasgow.

"Sweet Merlin, Alastor," May said as she wrenched open her front door, tying the belt of her dark blue silk dressing gown tightly around her. She brushed her unruly bright red curls away from her face before placing a hand on her hip. "Do you mean to wake the neighbors?"

"Never mind the neighbors," Alastor said impatiently as he pushed past her and drew his wand.

She sighed heavily as Alastor walked through her small sitting room, waving his wand in a complicated pattern. "Really, Alastor, is this necessary?" May reached out and snagged his free arm—she knew him well enough to know it would anger him if she interrupted his spell-work by grabbing his wand arm.

"It's always necessary," he barked as he pulled his arm from her grasp, avoiding her attempt to stop him to kiss his cheek as he continued walking through the cottage.

Shaking her head, May walked through the short corridor that lead to the larger of the two tiny bedrooms to turn down the covers. She knew it wasn't any use to try and talk to Alastor before he finished his task. It had obviously been a mission that had rattled him in some way or hadn't ended with the apprehension of whatever suspect he'd had his sights set on—these were the things May discovered one learned when involved with an Auror, especially one as set on his job as Alastor Moody.

"Are you quite done?" May asked archly when Alastor entered the bedroom.

"Aye," he said as he removed his robes and tossed them over the back of a chair in the corner.

May was happy that he sat and began unlacing his boots, telling her that even after an unsatisfying mission he was going to stay the night at her cottage rather than return to his own house. She watched him carefully from her spot nestled against her pillow. He seemed troubled—if the scowl on his face was any indication, his night had gone worse than she'd thought.

An unsettling feeling flitted through her when he strode to the bathroom and closed the door with a snap. They'd been getting on so well after they had rekindled their romance after a short break. Work had driven Alastor nearly mad-he'd become so obsessed with the cases he'd been working on, it had been like May hadn't existed. When May had delivered her ultimatum, Alastor had bitingly told her that nothing would come between him and his work.

A tentative smile formed on her face as May recalled Alastor showing up at her door a month later, saying he'd missed her and he'd like another chance. Knowing he was a man unlikely to get to his knees and beg for forgiveness, she'd accepted his short apology and welcomed him back in her life. Underneath the gruff exterior and workaholic nature was a fiercely protective and loyal man she knew was worth giving a second chance, worth giving her love.

She must have dozed off with her thoughts because she opened her eyes when she felt the bedclothes slide against her bare legs.

"I meant not to wake you," Alastor said quietly.

"I'm glad you did," May said as she moved closer and ran her hand up his chest. She touched her lip slightly to his, thrilled when he responded ardently. Alastor was a man of few words, never declaring his feelings in any way, but when she was in his arms, away from the rest of the world, May knew what she meant to him.

.

The early morning sunlight filtering through the curtains woke Alastor from a fitful sleep. He slowly turned his head to glance at the woman sleeping soundly next to him, her unruly red hair sprawled across her pillow. He closed his eyes against the feelings that welled inside him. He loved her. He was sure of it. Even though he'd nearly ruined their tenuous relationship a few months prior when over-run with a grueling caseload, she'd taken him back. Alastor resolved not to let anything happen to her—no matter the cost to him.

Allowing himself one lingering look at May before rising silently from the bed, he dressed quickly and left. There was work to be done.

An hour later—after a quick stop in the Ministry cafeteria for coffee and toast—found Alastor sitting in an unused conference room in the Auror department, his notes and files on the Goyle case spread in front of him. Surely there had to be something he'd missed that would lead him to an accomplice or acquaintance of Goyle's. His case against Goyle was rock-solid and Alastor knew the man would be in Azkaban for a long time, probably for life. With his solitary confinement in the holding cell and time in prison, he was sure the man wouldn't be able to get to May. But an accomplice was another story.

Irritatedly tossing a parchment aside that he'd already read at least five times, Alastor stood and wrenched the door open, warding the door after he'd closed it behind him so his work wasn't disturbed. Ignoring anyone who tried to stop him, Alastor quickly made his way to the lift, the door clanging loudly as he slammed it closed.

The deep underground level of the Ministry where the holding cells were located was deserted as Alastor made his way through the winding corridors to the guard desk. He made his request to the guard on duty and sat in an interview room, waiting for Matthew Goyle.

Minutes later, the guard escorted Goyle in and sat him in the chair opposite Alastor, binding him to the chair before sitting in the chair in the corner to witness their interview.

"I was wondering if I'd hear from you today," Goyle said, a slow grin spread across his face. "Thinking about what I said, are you?"

Alastor fought to keep his face neutral. "I'm here to ask you about your accomplices."

"Of course you are," Goyle replied. "But I'm not giving you what you want."

"Aye, you will."

Goyle smirked. "How? You gonna rough me up the way you did last night?"

"Maybe." Alastor jerked his head to the corner where the guard sat. "Burt there doesn't mind if I have a go at you."

"She's a pretty one, your lady—I've always had a thing for redheads."

Alastor clenched his jaw and placed his hands flat on the table to keep from putting them around the man's throat. "She's of no matter to me."

Goyle threw back his head and laughed loudly and Alastor drew upon all his strength to control himself.

"Now, I'm sure you're wondering why I've decided to find out about you and the lady you're close to," Goyle said with a grin. "I knew you were on to me—although if I'd known you'd get me as soon as you did, I'd have scarpered—so I decided to gather some insurance. Of course, I'm not really able to use it, but I get to ruin your life just as you ruined mine."

Alastor chuckled, trying anything to make Goyle think that knowing about May meant nothing. "Like I care."

Goyle leaned forward and stared at Alastor levelly. "I know you care," he whispered.

Alastor abruptly stood, sending the chair crashing behind him. He reached across the table and grabbed Goyle by the front of his wrinkled black robes, pulling him towards him, chair and all. Incensed by the man's laughter, Alastor shook him roughly and brought Goyle's face close to his.

"What do you want?" Alastor growled.

"I'll leave her alone if you do."

"What?"

Goyle smiled, obviously enjoying the predicament he was creating. "Leave her. Go back to your miserable lonely life, and I'll make sure she's left alone."

Alastor stared at the man in front of him and wanted nothing more than to slam him face-down onto the table, hopefully ridding him of a few teeth in the process. Instead, he pushed him back, the back legs of the chair he was bound to slamming onto the floor, sending Goyle nearly toppling backwards.

"Put this scum back in his cell," Alastor barked at the guard before leaving the room, the sound of Goyle's laughter echoing in his ears as he wound his way through the corridors back to the lifts. His pulse thundered in his ears and bitterness burned through his body as he realized what was likely going to need to be done.

.

May stared at Alastor in disbelief. Surely he didn't mean what he was saying, not after things had been going so well. He'd obviously been distracted by his big case going to trial—you'd couldn't pick up a _Prophet_ lately without reading about the arrest of Matthew Goyle—but she'd attributed his absence lately to just that, working hard to close a murder case.

"But—"

"It's over," he said, his eyes cast to the floor. "I can't focus properly on my work with all the time we spend together, and it's starting to show."

May shook her head, the errant curls that had escaped her clip during her workday falling across her forehead before she pushed them impatiently away from her face. "You don't just get to walk in here, say it's over and leave it at that."

"Aye, I do."

"No," she said defiantly, crossing her arms over her chest. "We fought for this because it's worth saving. I—" The words stuck in her throat. She loved him, she was sure of it, but the look on his face told her that it didn't matter what she said. Blinking back tears, she took a deep breath and stared at the floor of her tiny office.

"I'm leaving it that, lass," Alastor said before turning and exiting her office.

May stood rooted to the spot for a moment before she leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, hot tears spilling down her face.

.

Alastor strode quickly from the Magical Law Enforcement office, knowing if he hesitated for an instant he'd turn around and march back to May's office and pull her into his arms. In the weeks leading up to the trial of Matthew Goyle, he'd put all of his effort into trying to find any trace of threats and accomplices. He'd come up empty.

And so he'd been forced to break May's heart. His own as well, he could admit. As Alastor stalked through the atrium toward the Floos, he realized that he needed to focus on his career, focus on what he was there to do, and that was catching Dark wizards. He allowed himself to briefly think of May and the life he'd almost had. Shaking his head and stepping into the green flames, he knew he'd never walk down that road again.

* * *

A/N: This is round 11 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction competition.

Challenge: Season's Greetings

Chaser 3: Write about heartbreak on a summer day(s) OR an unrequited (doesn't necessarily have to be) love coming true on a winter night(s).

Additional prompts: 2. (Emotion) bitterness, 8. (Quote) I gave you a second chance. I ran back into a burning house to save the things I loved.-Beau Taplin, House on Fire, 13. (Phrase) walking down the road

Word count: 2835 per Google Docs


End file.
